


Together

by endoftheline7 (orphan_account)



Series: Survival [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e12 The Number of the Beast is 666, Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 20:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4680641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/endoftheline7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us."</p><p>"It's beautiful," Will says, and this time, he isn't lying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't seen the s3 finale yet, don't read unless you're okay with spoilers.

"Is Hannibal... In love with me?"

He regrets posing the question as soon as it leaves his mouth, and has to fight the flush of embarrassment he feels at sounding so childish. All this talk of wives, though- he has a suspicion. Bedelia could just as well be baiting him, but he takes the bait nonetheless.

"Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you, and find nourishment at the very sight of you?" Bedelia asks, and Will supposes it's meant to be rhetorical.

"Yes," she answers.

Oh.

His stomach drops, and he lets out a shocked gasp of air, struggling for breath in his surprise. Everything suddenly makes a lot more sense. If only he had known.

"But do you ache for him?"

If he wasn't stumped before, he definitely is now.

Does he?

Looking back at all his interactions with Hannibal, he thinks that he does.

In all his mixed feelings towards him, Will sees that love might be among them.

  

* * *

 

"When life becomes maddeningly polite, think about me. Think about me, Will, don't worry about me."

His heart squeezes, and he can't prevent himself from slowly walking closer to Hannibal, bringing his hand up to place it on the glass. If he could touch Hannibal right now, his hand would be over his heart. He bites back the whimper of bittersweet loss and goodbye, and says exactly what's at the forefront of his mind.

"You turned yourself in so I would always know where you were. But you'd only do that if I rejected you," he states confidently, absolutely sure.

Because he knows now, he _knows_.

As Hannibal holds his gaze, _knowing_ that he knows, he can't take it anymore, and realises he'll do something idiotic like confess that those feelings are reciprocated.

"Goodbye," is all he can get out without choking up, before quickly turning to leave. He almost makes it to the door, but Hannibal isn't having it.

"Will, was it good to see me?"

" _Good_?" He repeats in disbelief.

It was many things, but 'good' would not describe it.

For it was so much bigger, and so much _better_ , than 'good'.

"No," he says, entirely honestly.

 

* * *

 

"Can't live with him. Can't live without him. Is this what that is?" Bedelia wonders.

It both is, and it isn't, at the same time.

If she had asked Will the same question three years ago, he would've wholeheartedly agreed. But even then, that would just be Will trying to deny the obvious- he _can_ live with Hannibal, and he _wants_ to.

He's _always_ wanted to.

So he directs his response elsewhere.

"I guess... This is my becoming," he lies.

 

* * *

 

"This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us."

"It's beautiful," Will says, and this time, he isn't lying.

_Both of us._

That phrase warms Will's heart, and he drags Hannibal toward him, embracing him in what only could be described as a hug, yet it holds far more intimacy than a normal hug should.

He briefly considers it, fleetingly, that pulling them both off the cliff would solve things- that it would make everything better.

But he won't do that, because he doesn't _want_ to do that. Hannibal pulls him closer, and he leans into it, of course he does, his head against Hannibal's chest, feeling a heartbeat pounding, directly under his ear, and Will is _certain_ that he can't do that. Because they're _alive_ , and _together_ , they are _here_.

And while it _is_ gorgeous, it's no match for Hannibal.

Hannibal, so unfailingly beautiful, looks exquisite, shining in the moonlight, clinging to Will like a life source, holding him like he wants to _consume_ him. Whether that means kiss him or kill him, Will doesn't know. Call him biased, but he would prefer the former. He's already decided that he's not going to die today, so he uses his little remaining strength to lift his head, angle it upwards, just right, so that their lips are millimetres apart. Hannibal shakily exhales, their breaths mingling.

He smells of sweat, blood, and desperation.

Will loves him.

Will _loves_ him, and as sick and twisted as that is, he's _tired_. Tired of denying it, tired of ignoring it, tired of feeling _guilty_ for it.

He brushes his mouth against Hannibal's, barely, just light pressure, slow and chaste, smoothing his hand on his chest. This isn't the time for resolving years of passion, it's not the time for toe-curling kisses, kisses that leave you aroused beyond measure, and both of them know it.

This is a comfort, a consoling press of lips, a _thank god we're alive_ kiss, and it makes Will breathless.

There's blood trailing from both of their mouths, trickling down their faces, slipping from in between their conjoined lips, and Will can feel a sharp stinging in his cheek and chest, where he's still bleeding, but this distracts him. It's messy, bloody, painful and _perfect_. They're both in agony, suffering from being stabbed and shot, and they were both seconds away from dying just mere minutes ago. How could it have ever had ended another way? Although, it's not quite an ending, but more of a beginning. This is not how Will had imagined their first kiss at all, but now, looking back, he doubts it could ever had been anything different. Standing on a clifftop in the scarce light of night, injured and covered in blood that really _does_ look black in the moonlight.

It's them all over.

"Will," Hannibal breathes against his mouth, full of reverence and awe.

"Yes?" Will rasps as he draws back, giving him a weak, trembling grin, exposing the blood in his teeth.

"My dear, sweet Will. Darling Will," Hannibal says, his voice breaking, cupping Will's face in his palm and licking his lips in something akin to nervousness. Will is inexplicably reminded of the last time they were in this position, where he was choking on his own blood, Hannibal's knife plunged into his stomach. Is Hannibal going to stab him now?

"I love you," he declares instead.

Will peers up at him, and feels the barest hint of a smile graze his mouth.

"I love you too," Will replies, astonished at how unapologetic he feels about that.

The expression on Hannibal's face practically _glows_ with adoration and devotion, and Will suspects that the dizziness he's experiencing isn't _just_ due to the blood loss. He's seen Hannibal content before, seen him satisfied, seen him _happy_ , even. However, right now, he seems _exhilarated_ , seems utterly elated, and whatever consequences this moment may have, Will is glad to create it as a memory- one he will treasure forever.

"Is your compassion for me still inconvenient?" He asks, and startles a feeble chuckle out of Hannibal.

"No. Nor did I ever want it to be."

He drops his forehead against Hannibal's, trailing his hand down to interlace their fingers, and squeezing. Hannibal appreciates the gesture, responding in kind, using his thumb to stroke along the ridges of Will's knuckles.

"It doesn't have to be, not anymore. Never again," he promises, throwing his other arm around Hannibal's shoulders, slowly hauling him around to face the house, and resting on him for support as they take their first unsteady steps away from the cliff edge.

"I am glad to hear it," Hannibal remarks.

Will doesn't know what will happen now, he doesn't know where they'll go, whether it'll be France or Italy or Venice, or somewhere entirely different. What he _does_ know, is that they'll be together, for whatever comes next. He knows that currently, they're _alive_ , and that they want to stay that way, they'll make sure of it.

They'll survive.

They'll be okay.

They'll be together.

**Author's Note:**

> As you might be able to tell, the finale fucked me up really bad.


End file.
